You are Better than you Believe
by Joy Pedler
Summary: "i really want to write a story about the angel that sam prayed to all those years" whiskyandoldspice. wrote this around a month ago. Here is my fic inspired by it. This first part is almost like a conversation; half poetry, half narrative, and has a lot of Supernatural references, so if you haven't seen it, you may be a bit lost. SPOILERS ABOUND. Hoping to continue it
1. I

I

_ "Take care of this one, his prayers must be heard."_

_"What is so special about him? What does he do?"_

_Excitement._

_Is this a special human? Will I listen to the prayers of someone incredible?_

_"He is important, that is all you need to know."_

* * *

_Like this dad?_

A child; he is only young.

_Ok, dear god. My name is Samuel Winchester._

I am not god.

_I'm five years old and this is the first time I've prayed._

The first of many Samuel Winchester.

_I wanna ask for a couple things, ok?_

Of course.

_Please let dad get home ok from this hunt. Thankyou._

Hunt.  
The son of a hunter.  
This is indeed a special human.

* * *

_Dear god,_

I am not god Samuel Winchester.

_Just wanna say thank you for bringing dad home ok._

I played no part. Your father is strong.

_Tonight I just wanted to say thank you for that._

I did nothing.

_So thank you, goodnight._

Goodnight Samuel Winchester.

* * *

_Dear god,_

I'm not him Samuel Winchester.

_I just wanna know if mom's ok,_

Your mother is at peace.

_Up there with you?_

She is happy in her eternal dream.

_I, I never knew her, really, that well,_

She thinks of you often.

_And I just wanted to ask you to look out for her,_

…I will.

_And tell her I love her, ok?_

She already knows.

_Thank you._

* * *

_Dear god,_

It is still only me Samuel Winchester.

_Please make sure dad gets home ok._

He is already on his way.

_He's two days late and I'm really worried about him._

He worries about you too.

_He said he'd be fine, but I just don't want anything to happen to him, I need him, Dean needs him,_

He is a strong man, he will keep you safe.

_So please, make sure he gets home safe._

I will.

_Thank you._

* * *

_God,_

That is still not my name Sam.

_Can we please stay in this town?_

It is not the town for you.

_There's a library, lots of parks,_

I know Sam, I know how you love them.

_And the school is, well it's just great._

I know Sam. I have seen.

_My teacher says I'm really smart for a kid my age,_

He is not incorrect.

_And no-one's ever said that before except Dean,_

No-one sees how exceptional you are.

_So please, can you make dad think this town is good?_

His mind is made up already, I'm sorry Sam, there is nothing I can do.

_Thank you._

* * *

_Hi god,_

Hello Sam.

_It's me, Sam,_

I know.

_I know it's been a while,_

I have missed your prayers.

_It's just been tough round here lately._

I have seen. I am sorry Sam.

_…I just want out, I hate this._

I know Sam.

_I want to go to college, get a degree,_

You deserve everything and more.

_I just want to be normal._

You are so far from normal Sam.

_…Dean's taking dad's side._

Your brother loves you, but is loyal.

_Why can't I just do this? Just leave._

You love them.

_It's what I want, but they can't see that._

They see it; they need you more than you know.

_…Just please make them see things from my side._

If I could I would Sam.

_Thank you._

Goodnight Sam.

* * *

_Hey god,_

Hello Sam.

_It's Christmas, so I guess, Merry Christmas._

The first Christmas you have been happy Sam.

_I guess I should say thank you, because I got away, from dad,_

It is so good for you to be happy Sam.

_But I, I just want to pray that Dean's safe, I just wanna know that he's ok._

Your brother misses you, but is alive and strong.

_I don't know what he's doing, what he's hunting,_

He hunts a demon and is sleeping now.

_So please,_

Yes Sam?

_Just take care of him?_

Anything for you.

_Thank you._

Goodnight Sam.

* * *

_Take care of Jess._

I'm sorry Sam.

_Please._

I feel your pain, and I wish I could take it away.

_Make sure she's happy._

I will take care of her.

_Let her know I miss her so much._

She knows. She misses you more than words can express.

_So much._

I wish I could hold you.

* * *

_Let dad be alive._

I will find out for you.

_Please; I need to talk to him._

He will not listen.

_I need him to talk to me._

He will hurt you.

_Let me and Dean find him._

If that is what you want.

_Thank you._

You aren't in need of forgiveness. You have done nothing wrong?  
Why do you blame yourself for things you do that make you happy?

* * *

_God,_

It's me Sam.

_I don't know if I'm doing the right thing._

You are a good man Sam Winchester. It is your nature to do the right thing.

_I… There's something wrong with me._

There is nothing wrong with you.

_I sometimes feel, wrong._

There is nothing further from the truth.

_As though I'm ruined._

You are perfect.  
Kind, good, whole.  
You are not ruined Sam Winchester.

_So, a sign, would be nice?_

I will try.

_Just let me know if I'm wrong._

You could never be wrong Sam.

_Thank you._

Have faith.  
In yourself.  
You are better than you believe.  
You just cannot see it.

* * *

_Bring him back._

I'm sorry Sam.

_Please god,_

I don't understand why you must go through so much pain.

_It's my fault._

You cannot blame yourself.

_I did this._

No.

_I should be suffering,_

I will not allow that.

_Not Dean._

Neither you nor your brother deserves pain.

_He's the good one,_

He is a good man.

_I'm the evil one._

No.

_I deserve it,_

**No.**

_Not him._

Sam Winchester I will not allow you to do this.  
I will not allow you to blame yourself for something out of your control.  
You do not deserve pain.  
You do not deserve suffering.  
You deserve love, happiness and peace.  
And I will not allow you to think otherwise.  
And I will not rest until I give you the love, happiness and peace you deserve.

_…Save him._

I am trying Sam.

_Please._

I will do anything for you.

_Don't make him suffer for saving me._

They are sending someone.

_Please._

Sam your brother will be returned to you.  
He will be saved.  
He is the righteous man.  
You will have him again,  
And then you will smile again.

* * *

_Thank you._

I have done very little.

_Thank you for Castiel,_

He has brought your brother back to you.

_Thank you for being,_

I cannot help but be.  
You refer to God, but I am grateful for you to know I am here too.

_Thank you for Dean,_

I would give you everything you need Sam, if I could.

_Just; thank you._

Thank you Sam.  
Thank you for smiling again.

* * *

_I'm sorry,_

No, don't apologise Sam.

_This is my fault,_

Never.

_I'm a fool._

Impossible.

_And you should have left me there for him._

I should die before I leave you.

_I deserve whatever the devil would have done to me,_

No-one deserves that.  
You least of all.

_Because it's my fault._

No_._

_No-one else's; Just me._

There are so many more to blame Sam.

_Dean knew._

Your brother does not trust anyone but his family.

_He knew not to trust Ruby._

He is wise, but too cautious.

_But I didn't._

How could you know?

_I let her use me._

No-one lets someone use them. They are used.

_I should have known._

The demon deceived you, she was conniving and evil.

_But I didn't._

You couldn't have known.

_So it's all my fault._

**No**

* * *

_I promise._

I'm not supposed to listen to you.

_I won't let him._

They tell me I'm supposed to ignore you.

_If I keep him out, then he'll wither,_

…You are the devil's vessel.  
I cannot listen to you.

_And things will be better._

Why are you so good?  
How can you be the vessel of Lucifer?  
I do not believe it.  
I will not believe it.  
I believe in you, Sam Winchester.

* * *

_Please give me strength._

This is a bad idea.

_Let me be strong enough to contain him._

You are strong, but no-one is strong enough to contain Lucifer.

_I can make things right._

You do not need to.

_I can make up for everything I've done wrong._

You have nothing to repent for.

_Just make me strong enough._

…I will be with you.  
Every moment.

* * *

I can't take this.

Sam.

I can hear you.

I hear your screams, your cries.

In my head, all day I hear you crying out for help.

But they will not let me.

I beg, I cry, I plead with them "Let me save him, please, he is in pain and I cannot bear it, I cannot bear to hear him suffer. He is good, he is kind. He does not deserve this"

They will not listen.

They ignore me.

They tell me you are evil.

That you stopped their infallible plan and that makes you evil.

They are wrong.

I will not say it to them but they are wrong.

You saved the people of Earth.

You stopped needless suffering and pain.

And you do not deserve to go through this.

* * *

Sam,

What has happened?

You do not speak to me,

You do not acknowledge me,

I, I do not know what has happened.

I'm so confused.

Why are you like this?

Please talk to me.

I need to hear you.

Please Sam.

* * *

_I,_

Sam.

_I,_

Thank you Sam.  
Your voice, I've missed it.

_Oh god._

Sam I forgive you, please don't start blaming yourself, I cannot take the weight you put on your shoulders.

_I, I don't know,_

Please, just forgive yourself Sam.

_I don't know what I'm supposed to say,_

Say nothing.

_A whole year._

Sam it was not you.

_I, I spent a whole year,_

It was not you.

_Killing._

No.

_No remorse._

No.

_No mercy._

Not you.

_No guilt._

Please Sam, understand that you were not here, not for a year.

_I can't even feel it properly now,_

Yes you can.

_Because I don't remember it._

You still regret everything you cannot remember.

_I should remember; I should remember every life I took,_

Sam please, be kind to yourself.

_I should be mourning every single one of them._

You do, you mourn but you do not forgive yourself.

_Why?_

I don't know.

_Why would you let me?_

I wish I could have saved you.

_Let me be a monster for so long._

You could never be a monster Sam.  
Not to me.

* * *

_I'm scared._

I know.

_Cas is gone._

I know.  
He lost himself.  
I wish I could have helped my brother.

_There's gotta be some way to stop them._

I wish I could help you.

_We've never seen anything like this, never anything we couldn't kill._

I am afraid, Sam.

_Let them have a weakness._

I don't know.  
I will look.

_Just one._

Stay safe Sam.

_Please._

Stay safe for me.  
Please.

* * *

_Two times._

Sam, I'm sorry.

_Two times my brother's suffered for my mistakes._

He suffers for our mistakes, not yours.

_Why do you do this to him?_

I would keep you and him safe if it would make you smile.

_Do it to me!_

Never.

_I deserve it!_

No.

_Not him!_

Sam stop!

_I deserve every torture!_

No you don't!

_Every punishment!_

**Stop!**

_I want you to pile on me everything I've ever done!_

Sam I won't!

_I want you to make me pay!_

I will not let you!

_Make me suffer for what I've done!_

**Sam!**

_…Please._

Sam.

_Bring him home._

You know I would do anything you asked.

_I don't know where he is._

I do not know either.

_I don't know how to begin looking for him._

I want to help you Sam, so badly.

_I don't know if I'm supposed to stay here, or go._

Just be happy Sam.

_Please,_

I know.

_Just save him._

I will try.

_Save Cas._

I will try.

_Bring them both back_

I will go to the ends of the Earth for you Sam Winchester.

_Is this the right thing to do?_

* * *

Yes. You could never do wrong.

_It feels like that's all I ever ask; 'Am I doing the right thing?'_

It makes you wise.

_If you have to ask the question…_

No, don't even imply that.

_I'm just not sure I'm strong enough._

You are.

_I need to be strong for this._

You are.

_The first one's done,_

It nearly killed you, and yet you live.

_And it burned. It was so painful,_

I know, I was there, trying to ease it.

_And I don't know if I'll be strong enough to do two more._

I know you are strong enough Sam.

_Dean's always asking if I'm ok._

He loves you.

_I hate having to lie to him._

You do it to protect him.

_So please,_

Yes Sam?

_Strength._

I will help you.

_Give me the strength to get through this._

I will.

* * *

_I just want everything to be right._

So do I, Sam.

_I just want to be good._

You are.  
You are so good.

_I don't know if you can hear me, but I just need to know that I'm doing the right thing._

I can, and you are.  
Always.

* * *

_I just want to die._

Sam…


	2. II

II

Iofiel.

My name is Iofiel.

I am an angel.

I hear prayer.

* * *

Listener.

My title.

One of infinity.

An infinity of angels hearing prayer.

* * *

My first was a girl.

That was when there wasn't a language.

Just emotion for me to hear.

She was scared.

She died in flames.

* * *

My second was a boy.

His language was foreign to me, but I heard his prayer.

He was brave.

He died in water.

* * *

My fourteenth was a man.

I heard him every day.

He was soft.

They buried him in the earth.

* * *

My thirty second was a child.

They were confused.

They were sad.

They asked me for help.

I heard them.

They took themselves.

* * *

My eighty third was a girl.

She was almost taken.

She prayed for months, though she could not move.

I was the only one who heard her.

They let her go.

I heard her beg them not to.

* * *

My one hundred and twenty first was a man.

He was alone.

He prayed for company.

I could do nothing but hear him beg.

He left with no-one to help him.

* * *

My four hundred and sixty seventh was a woman.

She fought.

She lost.

She prayed to a different god.

I heard her anyway.

They burned her with the others.

* * *

My seven thousand eight hundred and twenty third was a boy.

He lost himself somewhere.

He stopped praying.

I stopped hearing him.

He destroyed.

He was destroyed.

* * *

My eleven thousand three hundred and ninety second was a girl.

She arrived too soon.

She left too soon.

I heard her only briefly.

They gave her to the air.

* * *

My fifteen-thousandth was different.

They weren't like everyone else.

They prayed to be normal.

I heard them say what they wanted to but could not.

They left quickly.

* * *

My two hundred and thirty nine thousand, one hundred and fourth was bright.

She glowed like an ember.

I heard her pray for others.

Never for herself.

She shone briefly.

* * *

My last was a boy.

He was brave.

He suffered.

I **listened** to him.

* * *

Iofiel.

My name is Iofiel.

I am an angel.

I hear prayer.

I do not forget you.


	3. III

III

Torn.

I have been torn from my home.

In an instant the world around me is twisting, changing.

I am wrenched.

I am ripped.

I fall.

Falling is painful.

As you fall, you burn.

The flames lick at you as you tumble down, down, down.

Dropping through the sky, unable to stop yourself, unable to find up, find the way home.

If falling is painful, then crashing is worse.

A sudden slam into the hard, unforgiving ground.

A place so foreign, that it's not the impact that hurts the most, but the sense of displacement.

I am not meant to be here.

I am meant to be intangible, like mist through fingers.

Not trapped here.

Not in a vessel I haven't chosen.

Not in a place I don't want to be.

It is a prison.

The Earth is my prison.

I cannot leave.

I cannot go home.

I don't know where I am.

I am lost.

I feel heavy.

My body is weighted down, keeping me tethered to the ground.

I feel broken.

I am so far from the place I love.

I feel as though my heart has been left behind, left in heaven.

_Where am I?_

_Why has this happened?_

* * *

I don't hear him.

Not anymore.

Two weeks.

I haven't heard his voice in my head.

I haven't heard him pray for forgiveness, for strength.

Haven't been able to reassure him, listen to him, bleed for him.

I hadn't realised how much I'd come to depend on it.

His voice was a presence I was so used to.

So comforting, so beautiful.

I haven't found him yet.

Finding people is difficult.

That's something you realise when you've fallen.

That people are difficult to trace.

I've seen my brothers and sisters.

We must be easy to spot.

We have that distinctive look on our faces.

We are trapped.

We are lost.

We don't know what to do, where to go.

We have no home.

Not anymore.

The only home I know now is Sam.

So I search for him.

I haven't found him.

* * *

I crashed in Arizona.

Near Phoenix.

It is dry here.

Though I crash in a forest it is dry and dusty.

I walk till I find the road.

There are people on the road.

The people are more than happy to tell you where you are.

They are less happy to help you.

People are instinctively selfish.

Your problems cannot even compare to theirs.

I follow the road.

All roads lead somewhere.

The one I'm on leads to Peoria.

I like the name.

It reminds me of home.

I don't know where to go.

My only checkpoint is Sam, and even then I don't know where he is.

All I have is the car.

His car.

The dark, sleek one which is always moving, their home.

Their real home.

That car is my only tether to him.

So I search for the car.

If I find the car, I will find Sam.

* * *

"What kinda car is it?"

"It's black, sleek, quite old."

"Look lady, you're gonna haveta' do better than that. What kinda car is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well why don'tya go find out what kinda car it is and then talkta' me, okay?"

* * *

I don't sleep.

Not for weeks.

I find it impossible.

Not without him.

Not without Sam's voice echoing in my head.

I need him.

I need his prayers.

Without them the world is empty.

The people I see around me are empty.

They are hollow and flat.

Not like Sam.

Not full of such goodness and light.

They frighten me, because they are so passive.

They don't see me.

They look at the dirt on my face, the holes in my clothes, the pain in my eyes.

But they don't see me.

And that is frightening beyond belief.

I call out for my father at night.

_Where are you?_

_Why has this happened?_

_Where is he?_

He doesn't reply.

He hasn't in years.

I'd grown accustomed to his silence.

But somehow I still call out to him, every night.

Maybe he'll hear, maybe he'll listen.

Maybe he'll help me find Sam.

I try not to expect his help.

I expect it anyway.

I am disappointed every single morning when I'm still alone.

* * *

Only one person talks to me in the three weeks since I fell.

I'm walking.

There is no traffic here.

The road is quiet and so are the streets.

It is dawn, the sun rising above the horizon.

The orange rays shine through the buildings.

I am alone.

Still.

The world is still and so am I.

I am standing silently; I have stopped walking.

A tear trickles down my cheek, and I drop my head down to my chest.

My shoulders shake and chest heaves but I don't make a sound.

Crying is foreign, new, and I'm not used to the tightness in my chest that threatens to choke me.

A man emerges from a door, standing on a balcony high above me.

He stretches his arms up, yawning and scratching the back of his neck as he catches the first of the sun's rays, warming himself in its light.

He notices me and leans over his balcony, gripping the railing as he tries to see me.

"Hello?" he calls down, squinting as the sun obscures his view of me, raising his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes.

"You ok?"

The words catch me off guard.

I raise my head, surprise stopping the tears.

I turn my head to him, mouth slightly agape as I frown in confusion.

He is the first.

The first to ask me that.

No-one has ever asked me if I'm ok before.

Not before I fell.

Not after.

I swallow thickly and nod, sniffing and wiping the tears from my cheeks with my palms.

He raises an eyebrow, and watches me for a moment longer, and then he nods, lets go of the railing and goes back inside.

He has forgotten me already.

I will never forget him.

I look at his window, the sun's orange light reflected perfectly, eternally.

A light that shines every morning.

I look to the sky, the clouds dusted with pink and orange, a slight violet at the edges of the night slipping away.

_Thank you Father._

* * *

There is unspeakable joy that comes when you discover something.

A single moment of clarity in weeks of confusion that shines through brilliantly.

"Are you certain?" I ask the man behind the counter, trying not to let my excitement cloud my reason.

I don't want to get my hopes up.

"Yeah, black car, three fellas in it, stopped here a coupla' days ago, headed down south," the man nods, chewing his gum loudly, his mouth hanging open as he points down the road.

"What did they look like?" I ask, my hands shaking. "The men in the car?"

The man thinks for a moment, the chewing gum going 'smack' between his back teeth.

"One guy with dark hair, two with brown. One guy wassa giant; had hair likea goddamm girl," he coughs apologetically. "The two with brown hair mighta been brothers, I didn' ask."

"And they went that way?" I repeat, gesturing to the road.

He nods.

"They must live local, bought bread n' eggs and some other shit, like grocery stuff."

My legs are shaking too now.

_I will not get my hopes up._

I thank him and walk out the door.

_I will not get my hopes up._

I start walking down the road.

_I will not get my hopes up._

I smile.

_Thank you Father._


	4. IV

IV

Here.

The car.

The sleek black car littered with his memories is here.

That means he is here.

Sam is here.

My entire body is shaking in a way that would be appropriate for winter, for snow, for the cold.

My breath comes in shuddering gasps, my chest quivering with every breath in and out.

It's been four weeks.

Four weeks since I fell.

Four weeks since I crashed.

Four weeks without him in my head.

And I've found him.

Finally, finally.

I've found him.

* * *

I'm not ready.

I've been standing at the door for hours.

The sun has long since dropped behind the hills, darkness descending quickly.

And I'm not ready.

I don't know what to do.

I'm so afraid.

I know him so well.

He knows nothing of me.

He thinks he has been sending his prayers to God.

What will he think of me?

The questions are crushing down on me, making my breath come in short gasps, and I duck down onto the floor, kneeling in the dust, hands over my ears.

I'm so scared.

So scared.

I want my legs to stop shaking; I want my heart to stop beating.

But they don't.

Instead I force myself to stand up, so shakily I'm afraid I'll topple over.

I raise my hand, though it shakes so, I raise it to the door, poised to knock.

My hand stays there for a while, ready to knock though I'm not.

There's a brief moment of calm in my head, and my hand takes it.

I knock.

And I start to hyperventilate immediately.

I'm going to be sick.

I want to run away but my feet won't let me.

I can't move save for the shuddering gasps that I take, my head feeling light and heavy at the same time.

I let out a gasp as the door opens, and a head appears around it.

"Yeah?"

Dean.

Dean Winchester.

He is here.

Dean is never without Sam.

Sam is here.

The thought doesn't comfort me.

My chest still heaves, unable to find purchase in the air; unable to draw breath.

Dean frowns and opens the door wider.

"Hey, are you ok?" he asks, concern across his face as he widens the gap.

I can't speak.

My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth.

Tears of panic are filling my eyes.

I don't feel right.

This isn't right.

Why am I panicking?

What is wrong with me?

"Dean what's going on?" a voice asks.

And then he comes into view.

Standing beside Dean in the doorway.

Him.

Home.

Sam.


	5. V

V

Iofiel.

My name is Iofiel.

I am an angel.

I heard prayer.

I **listened** to Sam Winchester's prayers.

* * *

I think my heart stops beating.

My pulse slows to a standstill.

My hands stop shaking.

He is here.

Standing right in front of me.

I stop panicking.

He is here.

The tears start to fall from my eyes.

They trail down my face, glistening and glittering even in the gloomy afternoon.

He is here.

I am here.

I am home.

"Sam."

The first time I've said his name, and he's heard me.

He looks at me with guarded confusion.

"Do I know you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes as he tries to recognise me.

He won't.

Recognise me.

* * *

She was 23.

She was driving.

One of us fell on the road in front of her.

She swerved.

She hit a tree.

She lingered long enough to pray for relief.

I found her as I fell.

I gave her relief.

She gave me herself.

* * *

I cannot find words.

They evade me.

So long I've heard him talk to me; so long I've spoken back to him.

Now that he can hear me, I don't know what to say.

He frowns in concern.

"Are you ok?" he asks, forehead creased as he moves towards me.

His words make me whimper.

He is incredible.

_Are you ok?_

There are bags under his eyes.

His face is gaunt and lined, like a man twice his age.

He is thin under his clothes, the fabric hanging loosely over his chest.

_Are you ok?_

I nod, and through my tears, I smile.

I laugh.

As I cry the laughter erupts from my chest, bubbling out.

I have never laughed before.

It doesn't feel right.

I fall to my knees and put my hands over my ears, pressing my palms to my head, trying to stop the laughter.

I don't realise that I've toppled onto my side until Sam is next to me, helping me up.

I gasp at the feel of his hands on my arms, helping me to my feet.

His touch is soft, gentle, and he carefully lifts me back up.

The laughter is gone, though my chest is heaving now, my senses overloaded.

His touch.

His smell.

They fill me.

I've only ever heard his voice, but now I can feel his palms on my arms, smell his skin.

He overwhelms me.

I raise my hand to his face, touching his cheek gently, just a light brush of fingers across skin, enough to be certain he's there.

He doesn't pull away.

He stares at me, frowning and clenching his jaw.

He wants to remember me.

He can see in my eyes how much I know him.

He wants to give me the recognition I so badly long for.

He can't.

He doesn't know me.

It shows on his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you," he apologises.

I know him.

He is sorry.

He doesn't know me.

I nod.

I try not to be hurt.

I am.

* * *

"You must not listen to him Iofiel."

"But he is a good man, he cannot possibly be-"

"And yet he is; you must not let him into your mind. His prayers must not be heard."

"I know him! He will not let Lucifer in! He is strong!"

"He is a human. Humans are weak. He will let Lucifer in and our great war will begin."

"No he won't! He won't let that happen!"

"Iofiel, you must let go. He cannot hear you and he never will. His prayers are nothing."

* * *

"Do you need help?"

I look to him slowly.

I am so confused.

I have waited so long to meet him.

I knew he would not know me.

But I hoped.

_I will not get my hopes up._

I knew.

_I will not get my hopes up._

I hoped anyway.

_I will not get my hopes up._

This hurts so much.

"I," my throat is tight. "I know you."

He smiles kindly, still frowning slightly.

"How? How do you know me?"

There is no other way to explain it.

"I heard you."

He pulls away, suspicion creeping up his neck.

"Heard me?" his frown deepens momentarily. "What, where?"

I swallow and open my mouth.

There is no other way to say it.

"I heard your prayers."


	6. VI

VI

I'd met Castiel once before he rescued the righteous man.

He was a soldier.

I was a listener.

We passed by each other once.

He was in the heaven of one of mine.

One of the people I'd heard.

His heaven is peaceful.

Castiel thought so too.

We stood together for a while.

Then he left.

He was soft.

I wept for him.

* * *

Castiel watches me intently, blue eyes fixed on me.

He's settled into his vessel.

His clothing looks worn; his hair longer; his face tired.

"Who are you?" he asks stonily.

He knew I had fallen the moment he saw me.

He knows the look.

The look of someone so unimaginably far from home.

"Iofiel," I answer softly, hands clasped on my lap.

We are alone.

Sam and Dean are in another room.

Talking.

I feel myself longing to be near Sam again, but I force myself to pay attention to Castiel.

His eyes flash in recognition at my name.

"You're a listener," he states, realization dawning across his face.

I stare at my lap.

"Why are you here Iofiel?" he asks, gentler this time.

I breathe deeply, and then answer quietly.

"I have nowhere else to go."

He watches me, and when I glance up at him I see sad understanding in his eyes.

There is no pity.

He does not pity me.

There is just sad, comforting understanding.

He nods, stands up, and leaves without another word.

I watch in confusion as he closes the door behind him.

When he hasn't returned five minutes later I close my eyes, lean forward and rest my head on my knees.

My head is on fire.

I feel like I'm about to explode.

It's so hard to remain calm, when all I want to do is scream.

I squint my eyes tighter.

I will not cry.

I jolt up at the sound of the door opening, biting my lip to stifle the screams I want to let out.

I close my eyes after looking to the door, because it hurts too much to see him.

He doesn't want me, he doesn't know me.

I hear his shoes pad across the carpet, getting closer and closer.

And then they stop.

There is silence for a moment, then the gentle sigh of cushion as he sits down beside me.

He's so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his core.

Can smell the salt of his skin.

Can taste his hesitation.

"Iofiel?"

He says it carefully, tasting the word on his tongue.

I don't open my eyes.

Can't.

Can't open my eyes.

He doesn't speak.

I know him.

Sam is gentle.

Sam is sweet.

Sam will give me my time.

I steel myself, and open my eyes.

I don't look at him immediately.

I will overwhelm myself with him.

Instead I stare at the carpet, the patterns and shapes, letting them distract me.

I can still feel his eyes on me, watching me with careful concern.

"Iofiel."

He says it softly now, the word running gently off his tongue.

Hearing him say my name makes me ache with longing.

He does not say it with familiarity.

Not like I say his name.

He says it like it is foreign to him.

Because it is.

"Sam," I reply quietly, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

Before I can think better of it I look at him, and though I regret it immediately, I hold his gaze.

He just watches me, taking me in.

I know I'm quite a sight.

I have not taken care of this vessel.

I have walked for weeks.

I have not stopped.

Her hair is matted, dry and heavy on the back of her neck.

The clothing she was in is matted with her blood, and stained the dusty red of the road.

Her face is streaked with blood, dirt and dust, burnt a bright red from the sun.

Her feet groan in pain.

Her shoes were not meant for walking.

Her back creaks when I stand.

She was not meant for walking.

My hurt, my pain and my longing is splashed across her face.

She was not meant for my emotions.

Sam clears his throat.

"How long," he begins. "How long have you been hearing my prayers?"

Though he appears composed I can tell how frightened he is.

Frightened of me?

I run my fingers along the knuckles of my other hand.

"Since you were assigned to me," I answer simply.

"Assigned?" Sam repeats in confusion. "So, it's your job?"

I nod tightly.

He frowns.

I know what he will ask.

"So, God doesn't hear our prayers?"

It is what they all ask.

I shake my head.

"The Listeners hear prayer. I listened to yours."

He is disappointed.

I knew he would be.

Sam has an enduring faith in my Father.

Despite losing so much, so many, he still believes that God will guide him.

He manages to swallow the weight of this knowledge and look at me again.

"So you've heard me all my life?" he asks seriously, a sad frown on his face.

I can only nod.

He winces.

"I'm sorry," he says, shame written in the way he grits his teeth and shakes his head, putting his head in his hands.

I shake my head, and reach out.

I'm about to touch his shoulder when I stop myself, and bring my hand back to my chest.

"You spend so much time apologizing Sam," I say sadly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

The tears well in my eyes and my breath hitches when he looks back at me, mouth slightly open and brow still folded.

I have wanted so long for him to know that.

He shakes his head.

"You, you've seen the things I've done right?" he says, glancing down at his hands, clenching his fingers into his palms. "There is so much I have to say sorry for."

I sigh sadly and grit my teeth, a tightness growing behind my eyes as I hold in the tears.

"You are so good Sam Winchester. **That** is what I have seen."

He laughs mirthlessly, and closes his eyes.

"I'm not good," he laughs sadly. "I've hurt so many people, destroyed so much. You were there right?" he looks to me again, stare accusatory, and laced with such a deep, deep sadness.

I pause.

"I was there," I concede, to which he nods.

"I was there when you prayed for your father to be safe, even though he'd told you he never wanted to see you again. I saw you when your brother went to Hell, and when he went to Purgatory. I was there when you begged for God, me, anyone to put you in his place. I have seen you demand that your life be traded for someone else's more times than I can remember."

That last one is a lie.

I never forget.

Sixty eight times.

Sixty eight times Sam Winchester has begged to be tortured, killed, hurt, to save someone else.

"I was there when your soul was returned. I felt you cry for every life you had taken unknowingly. I was there when you were in the Cage, with Lucifer and Michael. I could hear you screaming, feel you burning, and I wept for you."

The tears spill out now, dripping off my neck.

"I wept for you when you lost Jessica. When you lost your father. Both times you lost your brother. When you placed the blame on yourself I would scream to you, telling you that **it was not your fault. **I wish I could have been there with you Sam. I wish I could have told you. I wish that every time you asked for strength I could have been there to give it to you."

I take a deep breath, running my hands over my cheeks, wiping away the tears.

Sam is silent, watching me with big, sad eyes. His mouth is a thin line, and he swallows thickly.

"You have always been good. In my eyes."

Done.

It is said.

I have said 30 years' worth of thoughts in a few sentences.

I feel emptied.

Sam does not look at me.

He stares at his hands, unmoving, his only sign of life the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes slowly and deeply.

"Please say something," I beg softly, my voice breaking on the last word.

I need him to say something to me.

It's been so long that people have called me 'God', because they think that's who is hearing their prayers.

They believe that they are addressing someone else, and confide in them everything.

Their wishes.

Their regrets.

Their weaknesses.

Not once do they realise that it is not God who hears their words.

That it's me.

That I hear every word they say.

Not God.

Me.

_Dear God_

_Our Father Who Art In Heaven_

_Vishnu_

_Adonai_

_Allah _

_Hashem_

_Krishna_

_Lord_

My name is Iofiel.

I am an angel.

**I **am the one hearing your prayers.

Say **my **name.

"Say something."

Sam looks at me.

His eyes full of such sadness, and something else that I can't place.

He opens his mouth a few times, trying to start a sentence.

"What," he cuts himself off. "What do you want me to say?"

So open.

So real.

I am here.

Sam is here.

We are here.

His heart is open to me.

Like a thousand times before.

Like never before.

"My name," I whisper. "Please."

Sam smiles, that small smile that only registers really in his eyes, his brow refusing to relax.

His mouth quirks up ever so slightly on the one side, a lopsided smile that is so easy to miss.

"Iofiel."


End file.
